The Annual Ebon Hawk Pazaak Tournament
by Kallamae
Summary: After the destruction of Taris, Mission needed something to keep her mind off things. What better distraction than Pazaak? But when Kiryn and Mission finish writing the rules to the Annual Ebon Hawk Pazaak Tournament will anyone still want to play?


Huh." Atton showed the first spark of interest since he'd started fighting with the _Ebon Hawk_'s memory. He raked his fingers through his dark hair. The motion pushed stray strands out of his eyes, but otherwise only made the dark brown mop messier.

"'What?" Halyn leaned over the console to see what had finally captured his attention.

Atton took a moment to savor the rare glance of curved flesh peaking through the scooped neckline of her shirt before responding. "It's nothing useful, but it is about the only thing this damned ship's been willing to give up about itself."

Halyn read through the greedy expression on the smuggler's face and with a faint blush stood up. With her arms crossed securely over her chest she read from the screen, "The official rules for the Annual _Ebon Hawk_ Pazaak Tournament."

"Hence, the 'huh.'"

"Why would a ship the size of the _Hawk _ever host a Pazaak tournament?" Halyn didn't like any of the answers her imagination provided.

Atton slouched back in the chair. "It's probably not a real tournament. Besides, there are some pretty weird rules."

"Like what?"

"Well, you can't play."

Her arms fell to her hips. "Why not?"

"No Jedi," Atton answered.

Halyn shrugged off the heaviness that always accompanied the memories of her time with the Order. "I'm not a Jedi anymore."

"Right," Atton said. He ignored the troubled look that had crossed her face and read, "Rule One: No Jedi shall be allowed to enter the tournament. The Jedi have shown a lack of respect for the high arts of gambling, drinking, and…."

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"…gambling while drinking. In addition, the Council has strict regulations against engaging in any activity known to be fun." Kiryn carefully enunciated the last words to allow her fingers to finish typing.

"Also, you know they cheat," Mission added through peals of laughter.

"Alright, Jedi cheat, it's in." With a flourish, Kiryn keyed in the last letter and turned to her co-conspirator.

Mission wiped tears away from her eyes. "Bastila's going to hate us."

Kiryn shrugged, "She already does. All of us except Carth anyway."

"And Big Z."

"Well, it's hard for anyone to hate someone who can rip your arms off and bludgeon you with them if you hurt his feelings." Kiryn attempted to begin typing another rule when a mock-wounded roar sounded from the corridor.

Zaalbar's weak protest that he'd never rip off anyone's arms only sent the two women into another fit of laughter.

"Okay," Kiryn managed, "Rule Two: There shall be…"

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"…absolutely no ripping off of arms, legs, manipulators, or any other limbs. The resolution of any and all disputes shall not involve maiming, scarring, blinding, killing or otherwise permanently injuring any person or droid either participating in or observing the Annual _Ebon Hawk_ Pazaak Tournament."

"Ripping off arms?" Halyn's mouth hung slightly open.

"Yeah, there's a rule about ripping off arms." Atton looked quizzically at the list of rules on the screen. "This can't…Hey, where'd you say you picked up this ship again?"

"It's more like this ship picked me up."

"Yeah, well, let's hope the original owners don't come looking for it." Atton leaned over to check a sensor readout on another panel. "I like my arms. I like your arms. I don't want to argue with anything that's going to rip off either of our arms."

"Your concern is noted."

He shrugged, "I'm just saying…"

"I know," she sighed. "Is the next rule worse?"

"No, the next one makes sense. In fact, it's the only rule that I might have written myself."

Halyn shook her head, "I thought you were all for the "no Jedi" rule. Not more that ten minutes ago you gave an entire speech on how they couldn't be trusted."

"I trust droids even less."

"Not again," Halyn rolled her eyes at the rant she knew was coming.

Atton reached up and pulled her into his lap. "You can never be sure what's going on inside those walking heaps of scrap metal. Deep down in all that circuitry, who can really know they're thinking?"

Halyn pushed his arms away and stood up. "You need help."

"Oh, 'cause those HK droids are so peaceful."

"Just tell me the third rule."

Atton waved a hand to silence her and read,"Rule Three: Droids shall not be allowed to deal matches involving their owners. Nor shall they be…"

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"…allowed to enter the Annual _Ebon Hawk_ Pazaak Tournament as a participant if their owner has entered as such." Mission stuck her tongue out at Kiryn.

"You know T3 wouldn't cheat for me," the older woman objected.

Mission crossed her arms. "I can be pretty sure that you wouldn't ask him to, but the little guy might just do it anyway."

Zaalbar spoke from across the room. Ever since overhearing his temper brought into question, the Wookiee decided it would be better to sit in the room and supervise.

"It wouldn't matter if she told him not to," Mission argued. "He could just play bad and we couldn't prove he wasn't doing it on purpose."

"Fine, fine." Kiryn scooted Mission away from the console. "T3 wouldn't want to play anyway."

"Wouldn't want to play what?" Carth ducked into the common room. They weren't sure if he came to investigate the laughter or if he just needed to stretch after another marathon stint in the cockpit.

Kiryn looked up at him. "Pazaak," she answered.

"What other game is there?" Mission added. She didn't see Zaalbar shake his head from his seat behind her.

"Don't bother, Mission," Kiryn's voice too sweet, a sure sign she was up to something. "Carth wouldn't want to enter. Republic pilots are too uptight, I mean respectable, for a Pazaak Tournament."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Mission quickly caught on to the con. "The old geezer wouldn't approve of the game."

Carth cleared his throat. "The 'old geezer' is still standing right here and he's not that old."

"He has a point," Kiryn sauntered over to him. She gently traced the lines of his face with the backs of her fingers. "He's really not that much older than I am."

Carth caught her hand in his. "Good of you to notice, beautiful."

She flashed a smile before freeing her hand to poke his chest, "The problem is he likes to act on the moral high ground of a prude twice his age."

Mission's hands flew to her mouth to stifle her laughter. Even Zaalbar let out a low growl that had the intonation a laugh.

Kiryn primly took her seat back at the console.

"I'm in." Carth stabbed a finger in her direction. "You get your little tournament set up, woman, and I'm in." He snapped around and made his way down the corridor to the men's bunk muttering under his breath the entire way.

Kiryn managed to keep a straight face until she could no longer hear his angry mumbles.

"That was brilliant," Mission giggled.

"It gets better." Kiryn stretched out her fingers and began typing, "Rule Four: All pilots wishing to enter the Annual _Ebon Hawk _Pazaak Tournament must adhere to…"

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"…Nar Shaddaa rules of play. All other entrants shall be bound only by the standard galactic tournament rules."

Halyn laughed. "Only pilots, huh?"

"That's what it says." Atton absently fished out a Pazaak card from his jacket pocket and began twirling it around his fingers.

"You can't be serious." She watched the blue +3 card as it slowly flipped end over end around Atton's nimble fingers. He'd spent a large part of their hyperspace travel trying to teach her the finer points of the game. "You are, aren't you?"

Atton put the card away and grinned. "I'll even let you use my best deck."

Halyn considered his grin. The man was up to something, but she couldn't tell what. "Fine," she decided, "You're on." After all, it was only Pazaak.

"Good." Atton tapped the console off and pulled out two decks. "Welcome to the Annual _Ebon Hawk _Pazaak Tournament."

After winning the first round, Halyn couldn't deny that he'd given her a good deck. And according to the Nar Shaddaa rules for pilots, he shrugged out of his jacket. Halyn was mildly surprised that he hadn't tried talking his way out of the loss. He probably assumed that he'd easily defeat her before his modesty could become a real issue.

He was almost right. Two rounds ended in draws before he won one. Halyn immediately knew the self-satisfied grin that spread across Atton's face couldn't be a good thing.

"Your shirt, if you don't mind."

"What?"

"Your shirt. Nar Shaddaa rules, remember?" He held out a demanding hand.

"I remember," she answered pushing his hand away. "It applies to pilots. _You_ would be the _Hawk's _pilot."

"Yes, but you are a qualified pilot and the rules don't specify that it only applies to pilots of the _Ebon Hawk_." Atton's grin turned smug.

Halyn opened her mouth to answer, but couldn't think of a way out. She was caught in the technicality.

A low whistle saved her.

"What is it, T3?" The little droid had entered unnoticed during a previous round.

The tone of his reply had an impish quality Halyn hadn't realized a droid could make.

Atton's smiled faded. "What's he want?"

"It seems he's well-versed in the rules of the tournament." Halyn handed her deck of cards to Atton. "I'm afraid I'm not allowed to enter. Jedi Exiles are subject to the first rule. So sorry." Halyn made a quick escape down the corridor before Atton could protest.

He threw his deck down on the table. Pazaak cards skittered off the edge and onto the floor. "Get out of here, you damned little bin of spare parts."

T3 happily left Atton fuming and whistled his way down the corridor.


End file.
